


strangers on a busy street

by mcmeekin



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Megaforce
Genre: Gen, RPM!Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5067229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcmeekin/pseuds/mcmeekin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Venjix attacks. The Megaforce Rangers almost never meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	strangers on a busy street

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kathillards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathillards/gifts).



> once upon a time pearl made me cry a lot with fic based on this elisabeth hewer quote so i’m repaying the favor because it’s her birthday and i want her to be in Pain.  
> anyway in my head megaforce was better and the rangers were, like, super in tune with "the power" because they got to use all the suits. this was, like, hinted at with the whole troy dreaming thing???? but also not. so i’m gonna make it A Thing here.

\- - -

one universe has us right, of all the millions stacked on millions.

 

_[it’s not this one.]_

 

_\- - -_

 

There are things worse than death.

The dreams, Troy decides. The dreams are worse than death, sometimes. They come to him in the deepest parts of the night, twisting his thoughts into incomprehensible shapes and leaving him with a pounding in his head, confused and disoriented for hours. And there are times, times when he’s thrown up or called into work because of them, times he’d rather be dead than dreaming.

The dreams started when the Venjix attacks got so violent, so bloody, that Corinth was announced as open for business.

In those early days, the dreams only came in flashes. Snapshots of the world ending.

(Bodies and carnage and a man limping through the desert, his red shirt ripped beyond repair. A girl, screaming at a faraway figure. She’s saying that they have to move, they have to keep going, that there’s nothing he can do, they have to go.)

He doesn’t know what any of them mean, doesn’t know if any of what he’s seeing is real or just products of trauma. Not that his experience was all that traumatic; his city was evacuated before Venjix got near it.

But still, he figures it’s trauma.

You, of course, know better.

You’re frustrated with his short-sightedness, but, honestly, how could he know that his dreams are the product of a strong connection to the Power that never came to fruition? He’s barely even seen a Power Ranger before. He wouldn’t know.

He also wouldn’t know that three floors above him a young woman named Gia is having even more vivid dreams than him.

(There’s a blond woman sitting next to a man with sandy brown hair. _Do you think we’ll make it?_ she asks, knowing the answer.

He grunts, poking the fire with a stick. _We have to,_ is his reply.

There’s a low-lit bar. _Nobody’s coming to save us,_ a woman mutters, her tone almost as bitter as her drink.)

Troy doesn’t know they share anything in common when he accidentally runs into her in the laundry mat around the corner from their building. _But they do share something in common,_ you protest. But you’re wrong; they _would_ if only Venjix hadn’t attacked for a couple more years, giving Troy enough time to move to Harwood County. As life stands, they share nothing.

Their interaction at the laundry mat is less than noteworthy. A simple accidental bump, an apology, and they’ve both moved on. They’ll both forget about it within the day.

_But it’s_ wrong _,_ you want to scream. Wrong that this will be their only interaction. Wrong that they don’t know each other.

Wrong that they’ll never know any of their other friends, either.

Well, you’re right. It is wrong. After all, Gia knew Emma.

 

Harwood County is the first city officially, physically attacked.

Maybe it’s because Venjix felt it, too. How important this city is, was, could be. The epicenter of it all. Or maybe it was just bad luck.

There’s chaos and Grinders and screaming and Gia’s last thought before getting knocked out is _Emma’s in the woods._

And she is. Taking pictures after school like she always does. She misses the whole attack.

Gia wakes up in a hospital a couple of days later and three counties over.

Emma wakes up on the same day halfway across the continental United States in her aunt’s house. All the family she had left died in that attack, and she was shipped out of there pretty quickly.

_Technology did this,_ her aunt had said disgustedly. _No more technology for us._

They never see each other again.

Death doesn’t let you say goodbye, but neither do tragedies and over-protective aunts, so it would seem.

 

Ah, but I know what you’re thinking. And don’t you worry; Noah and Jake make it out. In fact, they go to Corinth on the same bus.

Too bad they don’t know each other, either.

_But they’re friends; they know each other_ , you protest. Unfortunately you’re wrong again. They _would_ have met when they’re assigned as lab partners in biology halfway through freshman year. But Venjix attacks before that can happen in this dimension. So, at the time when Noah would have been dissecting something while Jake made bad jokes, they sit on the same bus and look out different windows and never take note of each other.

They don’t have a reason to.

 

Gia and Noah are the only ones who ever actually interact in any sizable way.

There’s irony in that, if you look hard enough.

They sit in the same waiting room for the same doctor, the only two seated there on this particular day. Noah keeps sneaking glances at her. She keeps ignoring him.

Finally, he works up the courage to ask, _Do I know you from somewhere?_

_I don’t think so,_ she answers, barely glancing up from her magazine. You probably notice that the end of the world has made her more…hostile. But what’s the point of being polite if there is no one there to reward you for good behavior?

Something like comprehension dawns on him. _Hang on, I think…I think we went to high school together._

His words bring her gaze up sharply, and she turns toward him, her whole demeanor softened.

_You’re from Harwood,_ he continues with more confidence. _Wow, sure is a small—_

He stops, realizing what he was going to say, maybe.

She acknowledges his slip with an almost cynical smirk. _World sure does get a lot smaller when there’s only one city left._

_Sorry,_ he says. _I just…I’ve never run into someone I’ve recognized before._

She tilts her head, a little recognition blazing in her eyes. _We had science together, didn’t we?_

He nods, opening his mouth to say something, but at that moment the nurse comes in and calls Gia’s name. She smiles almost apologetically in his direction as she gets up, giving him a little wave goodbye.

He's gone when she comes back out.

~~~

Noah dreams of the past more than anything else. He dreams in fragments of other people's lives.

(A spaceship door closing on a distant planet. A car coming to the rescue. A shark, a stuntman, a surfboard. A gorilla in a lost galaxy.)

He often wakes up with a sense of longing for something, but he’s never quite sure what.

But the fake stars that shine above Corinth start making him sad.

~~~

You know why the stars make him sad. Or at least you hope you do. You hope that maybe he looks up at the fake stars and feels like there’s something out there in the universe that’s supposed to be important to him.

(There’s a boy on a far-away planet that gets destroyed by the Armada. A boy who finds a key but has no where to run to).

(Maybe he dreams, too).

 

There’s a cardboard cutout of a silver robot from some movie in the mall around Christmas time, so it has a Santa hat on. Noah pauses as he passes it. The pause is brief enough to be a coincidence but long enough that maybe, just maybe, there’s a voice whispering in the back of his mind, _You taught a robot about Christmas once._

But he continues on before that _maybe_ can be certain. Nothing is certain anymore.

 

Emma hates the stars, too. But her friends still like to stargaze, and who is she to tell them no? So they all head out to a field one night and lie down, looking up at the fake pinpricks of light filtering through.

They talk softly about the day, and, inevitably, the conversation wanders toward a robot attack.

_Why do you think the robot was swearing revenge for the destruction of that other one earlier this week? Why would it care?_ her friend is asking.

_Maybe they were friends_ , Emma suggests softly.

The friend scoffs. _Don’t be ridiculous. Robots can’t comprehend things like love and friendship._

_We don’t know that; maybe they can,_ Emma protests, and there it is, the elusive _maybe_. The _maybe_ that fills you with too much hope. Maybe Emma not-quite remembers two robots she taught about friendship and love. Two robots and an alien, who loved the stars like she did.

There’s a punchline there somewhere, if only someone were around who knew it.

 

Jake makes friends fast. Always has.

They talk about robot fights and Power Rangers, too, once in a while. One of his friends thinks the Rangers are doing a, quote, _shitty-ass job_ and should _hurry their asses up with winning._

And Jake almost agrees with his friend, and yet he nearly starts to defend the Power Rangers automatically every time. But he always stops himself. Maybe he changes his mind. Or maybe his reflex to defend himself kicks in before his conscious mind remembers that there’s nothing to defend.

 

Jake gets caught in an attack, once.

There’s a Ranger clad in black fighting off the G rinders. Everyone else has long since run, but Jake stands there, staring at him.

You want to scream, want to yell, _It feels wrong, doesn’t it? Come on, Jake; you know it does. It’s supposed to be a girl in that suit, can’t you feel it?_

The Black Ranger pauses as the Grinders retreat. Turns to look at Jake. And maybe the Ranger feels it, too: the way the Power is calling to this random guy on the street.

Or maybe he doesn’t.

_Run_ , comes the harsh command from behind the helmet. _Get out of here._

Jake grins suddenly. _Sorry!_ he calls, backing up. _Just never seen a Ranger in action up close before. It’s pretty cool._ He turns his back and runs away.

And maybe no one felt anything at all.

But, hey, look on the bright side. At least Jake can still smile at the end of the world.

 

Gia keeps one picture of Emma in her apartment. It’s the only thing she keeps from before the attack, and she keeps it under her bed. She can’t bring herself to look at it.

Someone (it’s not important who; it’s never important anymore) finds it while looking for their shirt and asks innocently, _Who is this?_

She looks at the picture and looks away, unable to bear the smile that radiates out. _Someone from before._

Something must bleed through into her voice because there’s a raised eyebrow and a playful tone. _Oh? An ex-girlfriend?_

Gia smiles tiredly. _An ex-something._

_(An ex-maybe)._

 

The same someone knows Jake. In fact, they’re Jake’s roommate.

(Now the universe is just laughing at them).

They bring it up to him.

_Hey, I think I slept with someone from your high school._

He looks up from the TV, interested. _Really?_

_Yeah, she had that shirt you have._

_Huh_ , he remarks. _Who was she?_

_Gia… Something with a M. Murray? Morgan? I don’t know. You know a Gia M?_

There's a spark behind his eyes that might've given you hope if you didn't know better. But all he does is shrug and look back at the TV. _Name doesn’t sound familiar. It was a big school._  

(No time for crushes on pretty girls on this side of the apocalypse).

~~~

Gia finds that, when she’s stressed, the dreams cycle more quickly. More are from first person.

There’s a picnic where her book gets stolen. There’s a karate competition where she calls the opposition cute. There’s a ballgown flowing down from her body, there’s a guitar in her hands, there’s a race track underneath her tires.

They’re memories, but they’re not hers.

~~~

There’s a butterfly garden in Corinth.

One of Emma’s friends takes her there for her birthday. Jake’s roommate drags him there on the same day.

They’re so close the entire time, she and her friend behind him and his nearly the entire time as they walk the paths of the garden. They never acknowledge each other; why would they? They don’t know each other.

He’s in the background of a couple of her pictures. She crops him out.

After all, he’s just some stranger.

 

Noah buys one of Emma’s photos. It’s in a gallery, and he likes it, so he buys it. The money is handled through the gallery so she only ever sees his name on a check. He puts the photo on his mantle.

Maybe he puts it there because he feels like it’s important, somehow.

Wouldn’t that be nice. He probably just really likes the way it looks.

 

Emma goes shopping.

She reaches for a blue shirt, then hesitates, her mind briefly revolting against the thought of wearing it. Maybe something whispered _not your color_ in her ear. 

She shakes her head and puts it in her cart.

Or maybe not.

 

Troy serves Noah a burger.

Troy doesn’t remember serving him, of course. He serves too many people a day to keep track of all of them. Sure he has customers that are regulars and always come in on his shifts, but Noah is a first timer.

_Of course he is_ , you think. _He’s Noah; greasy fast food isn’t for him._ But he _is_ a good friend who will pick up food for his sick friend on his way to their house.

There’s nothing notable about the encounter. Neither of them note it or even remember it.

(But they should).

~~~

Jake’s dreams are longer, affect him less, and occur less frequently. He forgets them half the time.

(There’s a girl, dressed in leather. Her cheek smudged with soot. The shadows draw her face in sharp planes.

_You can cry, you know_ , a voice behind her says. _No one would think less of you._

She shakes her head, and a man steps out of the shadows to join her in the half-light. He looks at her like she’s going to break at any moment. You think that he clearly doesn’t understand where she comes from, what she’s made of.

_It’s not fair,_ he says, whispers, breathes. _That you found him just to lose him again._

_Of course it’s not fair_ , she says, her tone even. She turns to face him. _The universe is a lot crueler than you think._ )

~~~

Troy and Jake ride the same bus home from work every day.

Troy gets on the bus one stop before Jake exits. They never interact. Never even really take note of one another.

And it’s sad. Sad that they’ll never meet, never become best friends and love each other until the end.

But it’s like a game of “would you rather” with the universe. Would you rather have your best friend ripped away from you by death or have never met them at all?

What a bogus question. I’d skip it; go back to asking about piranha oceans versus haunted houses.

 

But that’s how they encounter each other in this world. Like footnotes your eyes skim over: forgotten as soon as you’ve done it. Or maybe more like bullets grazing past exposed skin, flames barely licking at a palm: enough contact to be painful but not enough to last.

 

Now, you know that the puzzle is incomplete. Troy and Emma have yet to encounter one another, have yet to brush past each other unwittingly.

But be careful what you wish for.

_(The universe is a lot crueler than you think.)_

They’re in the same store.

She’s looking at the strawberries, her gaze flicking across the options. Her eyes wander upward (as eyes are want to do).

He’s just put down some bananas that he’s finished examining, and his eyes catch the tail end of hers as they fall back to her strawberries.

And that’s it.

It’s the kind of eye contact that you can deny happened, avoid acknowledgement of. Eye contact between strangers across a store.

They don’t feel it, but there’s a spark. A crackle of the Power reaching across dimensions, stretching through the store, begging to be acknowledged. You want to reach over, tap them on the shoulder, and tell them, _Hey. Hey, you’re supposed to know each other. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go._

But, like I said, they don’t feel it.

Or maybe they do.

She leaves the store, and he looks up as the bell over the door chimes. Continues staring after her until she disappears inside her car.

So maybe he feels it.

Or maybe she’s just a pretty girl in a store.

And there’s the problem with these _maybes_. Maybe they feel like they were meant to be heroes, meant to be friends, meant to be more than that. Maybe they never feel anything.

But they still dream.

_~~~_

Emma dreams of the present she’ll never have.

She dreams of clutching a key in her hand and smiling at a boy in silver. She’s trying to explain something to him, something about colors and pink and black, but he’s shaking his head.

_What’s the point?_ he asks. _What’s the point of having two sixths and no pink? And what does RPM even mean?_

She always smiles, amused by him. _Noah could probably answer all those questions_ , she tells this unfamiliar boy.

But she always has to wake up, always has to leave him behind. You feel the twisted humor in that. If only she knew. _He left you behind, once. Don’t you remember, Emma? Don’t you realize?_

But she doesn’t. She just gets up and moves on.

_~~~_

(We all have to move on at some point).

 

\- - -

 

maybe we’ll come across each other…racing across the breaches between worlds. 

 

i’ll build my life on that _maybe._

 

— elisabeth hewer 


End file.
